


Concerning The Captain's Honor

by BuckyWithTheGoodHair86



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Captain America: The First Avenger, F/M, Unshielded Fic Challenge, World War II, accidental nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27662557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyWithTheGoodHair86/pseuds/BuckyWithTheGoodHair86
Summary: When Peggy had been thinking that she hoped she’d get a chance to see Steve after he came back from his mission, she hadn’t meant it quite this way. She did knock, and she really,reallythought he had said, “Come in.”
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 13
Kudos: 88





	Concerning The Captain's Honor

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to the Unshielded Steggy fic challenge, in which Steve is naked for reasons that are not sexy.

As Peggy was finishing up for the evening in the communications tent, she heard the sound of shouts and whoops coming from the far end of the camp that meant the Howling Commandos had returned. They had a tendency to return after successful missions to much fanfare, most of which was self-generated. It was amazing the amount of noise seven men could make. Well, six, usually—Steve tended not to participate. He didn’t mind his men having their fun, but the Captain should be a bit more dignified, he’d told her. (She agreed, but she also suspected that he was a tad embarrassed to join in. For all that he was fast becoming a cultural icon, he did hate being the center of attention. She also suspected the Howlies were aware of that, and subsequently whooped a little louder on that account.) 

The noise had died down by the time Peggy had locked all her files away, and as the Colonel hadn’t shown back up, she didn’t think they would be giving a mission report tonight. Still, it couldn’t hurt anything to swing by Steve’s tent on the way to her own—just to make sure everything was alright, of course. 

The night was fine, and Peggy enjoyed the brief walk towards the officers’ tents. It had been a quiet couple of days, and the camp was alive with the sounds of cheerful chatter from the mess hall and what sounded like a game of football going on over by the motor pool. The walk to Steve’s tent was brief, and she could hear him moving around inside. Good—she wouldn’t have to go searching all over camp for him. 

She rapped her knuckles against the canvas flap in an imitation of knocking, more out of habit than because it did any good, and called, “Captain Rogers?” 

There was a thumping sort of sound from inside the tent and something rushed that she didn’t quite catch all of but that ended with the words, “come in.” 

She pushed aside the tent flap and couldn’t hold in a startled gasp at the sight that greeted her as she stepped inside. Steve was standing by the table in the corner of the tent, twisting around and bending at a very peculiar angle in front of his shaving mirror and not wearing a stitch of clothing. (Well, he did still have his shorts, but as they were around his ankles at the moment, he couldn’t really be said to be _wearing_ them.) 

Steve jumped and spun in the direction of the door at the sound of her gasp, got his feet tangled in the shorts around his ankles and stumbled backwards over a folding chair and hit the floor with an almighty crash. He twisted and sprang back to his feet, snatching his shield off his cot and yanking it around to cover himself with impressive speed…although, not _quite_ enough speed to stop Peggy getting rather an eyeful. 

“Peg—Agent Carter,” he stammered. Every bit of his skin that she could see had gone as red as the stripes on his shield. “What, what are you doing here?”

Peggy realized she was gaping and snapped her mouth shut. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I—you said ‘come in’.”

“No; no, I didn’t. I said ‘Wait a minute—don’t come in’,” he replied.

“Oh.” Now it was Peggy’s turn to blush. “I didn’t hear the first part.”

They stared at one another for a very awkward minute.

“Is everything alright?” Peggy asked.

“Fine. I’m fine,” Steve said quickly.

Peggy nodded. “Right. Well, I’ll leave you to…” She waved her hand at the mirror and whatever he’d been doing. “What a man does in the privacy of his own tent is certainly none of my business. I’m sorry for interrupting.”

“No!” Steve said. “No, it’s not—” She wasn’t sure how it was possible, but he had turned an even deeper shade of red. It would not have surprised her entirely if his hair were to catch on fire. “It’s nothing like _that_ ,” he insisted. “It—I—” He seemed at a loss to explain. “Never mind.” One hand appeared from behind the shield to give a resigned wave in the direction of the door. “Just go.”

Instead of leaving, Peggy leaned in and peered more closely at him. He was flushed from head to toe, but a different shade of red—a bright scarlet—was trickling down his left leg. “You’re bleeding,” she said. “Did you cut yourself when you fell?”

Steve looked down at his leg, then sighed, sagging down a little. “No.”

She arched an eyebrow for him to go on, and he sighed again.

“I kind of…got shot,” he said.

“You got shot?!” she repeated. She thought again about the way he’d been bending in front of the mirror, and a lightbulb went on. “In the…?”

“In the butt,” he finished for her. Another sigh. “Yeah.”

Peggy was so, _so_ , close to not laughing, but she didn’t quite make it. Her hand went up to cover her mouth as a tiny chuckle escaped. “I’m sorry!” she hurried to say as Steve frowned. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny.”

“I would have thought being a spy would make you a better actor than that,” he huffed.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, all traces of amusement gone. “It—I shouldn’t have done that.”

He nodded in acceptance of the apology.

“Why are you trying to dig the bullet out here instead of just going to the medical tent?” she asked.

Steve sighed again. “Because Dugan and Bucky are in the medical tent,” he said. “Dugan sprained his ankle, and Bucky is there ostensibly for moral support, but primarily to make time with Nurse Garcia. If I was getting this worked on while they were in there…I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Surely they wouldn’t—” Peggy began, but stopped herself. “No, you’re right.” She considered. “Do none of them know you got shot?” Sergeant Barnes was like Steve’s older brother in every sense of the word—never passing up an opportunity for a light-hearted jab, and simultaneously protective as a lioness with her cub. If he’d had any inkling that Steve had been injured, he would have marched him to the medical tent himself, and saved the teasing for later.

“ _I_ didn’t know I got shot,” Steve said. “It was mid-combat; I just thought someone kicked me or something. I could feel it walking back, but I thought I just pulled something. Didn’t see it until I got in here in the light and saw blood on the uniform when I started changing.” He gestured at the shaving mirror and a pair of tweezers he’d dropped in front of it. “I heal quick enough, I oughta be fine in the morning if I could just get the bullet out.”

Peggy nodded. “Can’t quite bend that way?” she guessed.

He shook his head. “Guess I’ll have to go to the med tent after all.”

“I could help,” Peggy offered before she quite realized what she was saying.

“What?”

“I could help,” she said again. Though she hadn’t been intending to offer, she didn’t mind now that she had.

“I—I couldn’t ask you to do that,” he stammered.

“You didn’t,” she said. “But I’m offering.”

He opened his mouth and closed it again, and some of the blush that had started to fade was creeping back.

“I had some medical training when I was with the S.O.E.,” she said. “And I promise to be discreet. Not a word about it will leave this tent.”

He still didn’t seem sure how to respond, and Peggy realized that while she was offering out of practicality, it could be read another way. They stole their moments when they could, but with the war on it was hard to find time properly alone, and they had yet to enjoy anything more than each other’s company. And Steve was ever the gentleman—considering where Peggy’s hands would be if he accepted her offer, it could easily be read as a very forward proposition.

“But, of course, you can go to the medical tent if you’d prefer,” Peggy assured him. “I shan’t be insulted.”

After another minute of silence, he asked softly, “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I did,” she told him.

He nodded. “Okay. If you’re, I mean, if you’re really sure.”

“I am,” Peggy said. “Do I need to go and fetch a first aid kit?”

“I have one,” he said. He started to step towards the table with the mirror, then changed his mind and shuffled sideways instead, slowly bending his knees to crouch down and pick up the first aid kit from where it had fallen, keeping his shield resolutely in front of him the whole way. “How do we…ah, how do you want to do this?” he asked, handing the first aid kit over.

“Why don’t you lie on the bed?” Peggy suggested. That would give her clear access while covering the rest of the things he wanted covered.

He nodded and shuffled back to the cot, and Peggy averted her eyes as he situated himself. (She needn’t have—she’d seen it all and he had nothing to be ashamed of, but she thought he would at least appreciate the illusion of as much modesty as she could give him.)

“Okay,” he said, a bit muffled into his pillow.

Peggy turned back around, and it was a good thing he couldn’t see her expression, because she was sure it, like her thoughts, was entirely inappropriate to the situation. Steve was injured—this was hardly the moment for comparisons to Hellenistic Greek sculptures, but bloody _Nora_! She’d seen him bare-chested before, of course, first in Erskine’s lab, and in a few occasions in the field since then, and while that was distracting enough on its own, she’d at least seen it enough to be able to keep her appreciation from showing on her face. Steve laid out in front of her in all his glory (or half his glory, anyway, since it was only the back) was another matter altogether. The sculpted arms bent to rest under his chin, the chiseled back, the… Peggy had to swallowed hard a couple of times as her mouth had suddenly gone very dry. Steve Rogers was, without a doubt, in possession of the most gorgeous bum Peggy Carter had ever seen. Even with the—that’s right, there was a bullet in it, and she was meant to be getting it out. She shoved all thoughts of an impure nature to the back of her mind and stepped forward to pick up the folding chair and sit down in it.

“Right,” she said. “Let’s have a look.” The edges of the wound were a bit jagged, and it was difficult to see quite what was going on with the blood all around it. “I’m going to have to clean it out first. This might sting a bit.”

Steve nodded into his pillow and she twisted the cap off a bottle of antiseptic. She picked up a cotton ball and began pouring the liquid over the wound, dabbing it and the blood away with the cotton ball. (She should have gone to find some gloves first, she supposed, but she knew for a fact Steve’s blood was free of disease, and if there were any germs on her own hands, the serum would fight them off before they had any chance to trouble Steve.)

Steve grunted into the pillow as the antiseptic hit his skin, and Peggy was very pointedly not looking at the way all of those exquisite muscles were cording with tension. “I told you it would sting,” she said.

Steve snorted and she smiled and soon had the wound cleaned up enough for a proper look. Now that it was clean, it didn’t look too bad. The jagged edges and the renewed bleeding had come from Steve’s attempts to remove the bullet he couldn’t see, but the wound itself was pretty clean. Peggy picked up the tweezers and wiped them off with antiseptic. “It’s not too deep,” she told him. “But it’s going to hurt a bit getting it out. I’ll be as careful as I can.”

He nodded, and she placed her left hand on his skin around the wound to hold it open. Steve let out the occasional grunt or hiss of pain, but she ignored the automatic response they elicited to go any faster—she didn’t want to be hasty and cause him further pain or miss anything. It took her several minutes to carefully work the bullet up to the edge of the wound to where she could get a firm enough grip to pull it out.

Once she’d gotten it, fresh blood started to pour from the wound. She dashed the blood away with a few more pieces of cotton, then picked up the bottle of antiseptic again.

“Ah!” Steve hissed as it stung at his skin once more.

“Sorry, I should have warned you that was coming,” she said.

“Um,” said a voice that did not belong to either of them.

They both swung their heads around to see the face of Bucky Barnes staring at them from between the flaps of canvas across the opening of the tent.

“What is it, Sergeant?” Peggy asked when he continued to stare.

“Um,” he said again. Until this moment, Peggy hadn’t thought the man capable of blushing. “Never mind. I…I don’t remember why I came in here. I’ll see you later,” he said hastily before disappearing.

Peggy had been so focused on removing the bullet that it took her a moment to realize how the scene must have looked to Barnes—Steve, laid out naked on his bed and Peggy with her hands on his backside doing something that was making him groan. “Oh, dear,” she said.

Steve dropped his face down to hide in his pillow. “I don’t suppose I’d be lucky enough to get gangrene and die if you stuck the bullet back in, would I?” he muttered.

“I’m afraid not,” she said.

He inhaled deeply. “Just get it over with,” he sighed.

There was little left to do but clean up the blood and tape some gauze over it. “Leave that on until morning,” she told him. “You heal fast enough, it should have closed up by then.”

He nodded and she poured a bit of antiseptic over her hands and wiped them clean with another one of the cotton balls, then got up to wash her hands at the basin by his shaving mirror. She caught motion in the mirror and kept her eyes on her hands until she was done, and Steve was in his shorts and undershirt when she turned back around.

“Thanks,” he told her.

“You’re welcome,” she replied. “Though I’m sorry it didn’t end up sparing you the embarrassment you might have hoped.”

He barked out a surprised laugh at that. “Yeah.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “Uh, listen, I’ll talk to Bucky, tell him what was really going on. Something like what I think he thought he saw, he wouldn’t go telling people, but…”

“If he’s not going to tell anyone, why worry about it?” Peggy wondered. Even if he didn’t tell anyone, it’s wasn’t as though Steve could make him forget seeing it at all. One corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile. “I’m sure it’s less embarrassing for you if he thought we were up to something scandalous.”

“Probably,” Steve said, his cheeks coloring again. “But it’s more embarrassing for you. And I wouldn’t want for people to think that you…” He ran out of words and made a vague sort of gesture with his hand. “I mean, I know how people talk about women in the Army, and you shouldn’t—Not that Bucky thinks—I mean, he knows you aren’t…” He made that vague gesture again and sighed, giving up on finding the words he wanted. “I don’t want people thinking things about you that aren’t true just to keep the guys from ragging on me.”

“That’s…” Peggy began. He hadn’t actually said much of anything, but she understood what he’d been after. A lump rose up in her throat, and she had to swallow it down before she could speak. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I really appreciate that.”

He smiled down at her warmly. “Of course,” he said, shrugging one shoulder as though it was just a matter of course. Peggy didn’t think he realized how significant it really was that he would offer to do that. Not that she needed anyone to defend her honor, but setting the record straight would be at his own expense, and Peggy knew of few people who would be that considerate.

“Thank you,” she said again. “I should probably go,” she added, nodding in the direction of the door. “Don’t want to give people any more to talk about.” A joke sprang to her mind about the sorts of things they might do before she left if people were going to talk anyway, but it seemed churlish given what Steve had just said, so she held her tongue.

Steve nodded, a hint of blush creeping back into his cheeks, and she was glad she hadn’t said anything. “Thanks again,” he told her. “For fixing me up.” He smiled. “I’m sure it wasn’t what you wanted to be doing with your evening, but I appreciate it.”

She smiled back. “I’m happy to have helped. I think my evening was very well spent.” It hadn’t been what she’d been intending to do with her time, true, but whatever it was exactly that was there between her and Steve, she thought there was a bit more of it now. She took a step closer and leaned in, resting her hand on his arm and going up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. “Good night, Steve,” she said softly.

The way he was smiling at her as she stepped away was soft and surprised and warm and radiant all at once, and Peggy thought that she wouldn’t mind seeing him smile like that more often.

“Good night, Peggy,” he replied.

She nodded, still smiling, and turned and left the tent.


End file.
